


this world's not waiting

by contagionangel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drinking, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, S2 Coda, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Skinny Dipping, more found family than ship content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contagionangel/pseuds/contagionangel
Summary: Written for the 2017 Voltron positivity exchange for Mariifrsouza.Drifting in the damaged Castle of Lions, everyone struggles to come to terms with where Shiro might be, the decisions that have to be made in his wake, and what to do next-- as intel is filtering in that the Galra Empire is doing its best to rally from the pieces left.Struggling most of all is Keith, who's feeling the weight of Shiro's wish to see leadership fall on his shoulders.





	this world's not waiting

**Author's Note:**

> i fully expect some serious jossing of major elements of this fic to take place in s3-- but i needed some comfort after how s2 ended, and hope this is an okay contribution to positivity day!
> 
> shoutout to stargazershiro for setting up the exchange!

It's Coran who declares that it's time to take a break.

 

"Princess, Allura," he says, "the Paladins--" He swallows, moustache quivering and adam's apple bobbing. "The Paladins need sleep. So do you."

 

"We don't know if Shiro was displaced from the wormhole and is stranded who knows where in the universe, or somehow absorbed into his lion, or even whether or not he’s still alive to retrieve!” she replies, slamming her open palms on the table, but she looks as weary as the rest of them.

 

“Your connection to the lions and the Castle suggest he’s still alive, and if he were in mortal danger, he’d likely be gone by now.” says Coran. “The Empire hasn’t actually completely fallen with the death of Zarkon like we’d hoped. We need to use the chance we’ve gotten to get some rest. We need to come to this with a fresh mind, because we’ve got repairs to make and we’ve  _ got  _ to build some kind of strategy. If we’re in for prolonged war--”

 

Nobody looks happy at that idea, so Allura concedes and they scatter reluctantly. War. Had they called it that before? Keith can’t remember.

 

He feels exhaustion all the way down to his bones, but while he’s usually able to pass out for bits and pieces here and there, there’s an aching roar of white noise in his head and ringing in his ears that he knows will keep him tossing and turning.

 

Keith doesn’t head to the showers, or change out of his armor, or head to bed. He goes straight to the combat simulator room to fight until he can’t feel his body anymore, or regrets feeling it so much that it takes his mind off of the pins-and-needles taking over his feelings. He has to fight something.

 

There’d been a letter left by Shiro in case he ended up missing or dead. None of them are calling it a will. He thought-- he thinks--

 

Keith wishes he knew what Shiro would do, but that’s the problem: Shiro’s not here. Keith is. He doesn’t even know if the black lion will accept him; he’s a little scared it’ll somehow make Shiro irretrievable, if he isn’t really dead.

 

Time goes into a blur, but his brain won’t disengage as his body dodges and counters on autopilot. He’s reluctantly set the droid to a lower level, because if he hurts himself doing something stupid, then they’ll be out  _ two _ pilots. The closest they can tell to why Shiro is gone is that it’s a side effect of the druids and Zarkon’s attack, and he’s ever more frustrated and choking all the harder as he realizes that they all know magic is real and rely on it on a regular basis, but Coran is the closest to someone among them who knows how it works, and Allura’s the only one who can use it.

 

She can’t even take over as pilot-- something Keith had hoped for himself-- because she’s connected to the Castle in ways that Coran isn’t, and two is a skeleton crew for running operations from it as it is.

 

Shiro wasn’t  _ there _ to see Keith implode after the first time he disappeared into missing-presumed-dead status. Keith never asked about his reasoning for command decisions, never told him about the screaming breakdown at the Garrison that’d lead to him living off the grid and living off gas station food while he tried to make sense of the caves.

 

There’s so much they hadn’t talked about.  _ Why  _ he thought Keith should take the lead. How he expected Keith to do it. Once again, he’s filled up with regret and grief over all the things left unsaid.

 

Keith is a lot of things. He’s quick and handy with figuring out the controls and limits on a vehicle, namely, how hard it can corner and how fast it can go. He fights like he’s not afraid to die, even though he is. He sees a job in front of him and he tries to see it through. And his temper and impulse control  _ suck _ .

 

He’s never studied strategy, and barely studied tactics. The team has, in some ways, bonded, but he doesn’t have the connection with Pidge over her father and brother. He doesn’t have Lance’s hero worship and respect. He doesn’t have the tone of voice and way with social cues needed to harden Hunk’s resolve instead of push him further into his own fears. He doesn’t know the names of most of their family members, or where they’re from, or what they want from their lives.

 

Now he’s second-in-command in, potentially, a war for the fate and liberation of the entire  _ universe _ . And it’s his job to take care of them and keep them alive, when he  _ knows _ he doesn’t take care of himself.

 

He gets so wound up in his own head that the next thing he notices outside of it is his bayard aimed at Lance. Shit.

 

“End simulation.” he says, ragged, letting his bayard go dormant and drop from a very, very sore hand. “I’m--”

 

Lance’s hands are frozen in a raised surrender posture, but he gradually relaxes. He’s in casual clothes. “Geez, you’re not okay.” he says, and the tightness in Keith’s throat gets tighter, because he’s already failing.

 

He wants to argue, but the shock and interruption have drained what’s left of the fight out of him.

 

“I’m sorry.” he says.

 

Lance’s eyebrows go incrementally higher.

 

“I’m not okay either.” he replies, finally. “I don’t think any of us are. Hunk’s been stress baking. I think only Pidge slept, and that’s from passing out over a laptop while digging through the Castle library.”

 

“God,” says Keith, dragging a hand over his face, “how do normal people deal with stress? I thought everyone else was more functional than I am.”

 

“Really?” says Lance. “I figured you thought you had it all together. Y’know. You’re all--” He makes some gestures that look like they’re meant to convey stoic brooding and a sword fight.

 

Keith just stares at him for a long moment. Lance stares back.

 

“We don’t know each other very well, do we.” says Keith.

 

“So Hunk may have figured out space drinks that don’t taste like hotdog water,” says Lance, “and I actually came here to see if you were up to a middle-of-the-night Paladin hangout where we can talk with less, uh, table and armor.”

 

Keith would rather go to bed to deal with his nightmares, but.

 

“He’s finally managed actual cookies.” adds Lance, and-- Keith is invited. Keith is wanted there. He needs to learn how to be there for who are, at least for now,  _ his _ pilots.

 

“I’ll shower and change.” says Keith.

 

His pilots. His team.

 

Three different therapists tried to break him of the habit of stepping out of his body and letting it go through the motions, detached, but he needs to save as much presence of mind as he can for whatever fragile situation he’s about to walk into. They’re slotted into place in his head now as his, and the last thing he’s ever wanted to do in life is let Shiro down; even in his absence, his approval means something to Keith, which is part of what made him an obvious leader in the first place.

 

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. He’ll need squad tactics until they find another backup pilot--  _ can _ they have backup pilots? The lions choose their Paladins, but there have to be ways of figuring out compatibility with potentials. Who can they trust? Who would want to be invited to it? How well can they get to know each others’ lions for emergencies?

 

From the Blades of Marmora’s philosophies, even with the loss of multiple important members of their hierarchy, he’ll probably have to bring up the idea with Allura that the next red Paladin be Galra; if there’s a very secret secret society against Zarkon, there’s probably more dissenters-in-feelings who just had no hope of outlet for it, and the few outings they’ve had to colonized Galra worlds with market trade tell him that most of the Empire’s citizens who run the basic functions of living in a government are likely as lifetime-normalized to it as he was to the military aspects of the Garrison before he left.

 

He hadn’t known that Coran and Allura were struggling to keep the Castle running, and that it wasn’t meant to be run with just two. He feels stupid for not having guessed; it’s huge and full of empty rooms, and stocked back with the rations to supply diverse biologies with nutrients and medical care. Its shields and defenses are powerful, but for how impressive it is, it feels like a rich traveling tourist mansion the longer he lives in it and the more he sees of it. It makes him wonder what the government of Altea was like.

 

They couldn’t run a resistance as seven and Voltron, not without alliances. He realizes with some amount of dread that they’re going to have to try to recruit.

 

In less than a year, he’d gone back to thinking, feeling, and living like an angry teen with nothing to lose and no future. Now he doesn’t have time to regret that. He’s going to be very, very busy. They all are.

 

After a long moment of staring, he reluctantly adds the modified Altean tablet he’s barely touched to the pile of fresh clothes, so he can start the list while it’s fresh in his mind. It’s going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s the last one to make it to their unofficial rec room, and the other three fall quiet as he walks in.

 

They sort of stare at each other for a moment. Shiro would probably have a speech for a moment like this. Keith is a poster-child for constant reminders to use his words, even now.

 

He settles gingerly in his usual spot, looks each of them in the eye, and takes a deep breath. He can’t be Shiro for them; he has to be him, and hope that’s good enough.

 

“When I met Shiro,” he says, uncomfortable, “I was fifteen and in foster care. He was my mentor for a community service program through the Garrison after I stole a car and drove it off a bridge.”

 

Nobody else says anything, so he continues. “He wasn’t the first person to try and reach out to me, but he was the only one who succeeded. I didn’t give him an easy time, and he wasn’t that much older than me, but he--” Keith’s voice cracks a little. “He didn’t give up on me. I’ll understand if you guys don’t want me leading Voltron, but no matter what happens, I’m not going to give up on him.”

 

Hunk’s eyes are glassy, and he gives a big sniff as he pushes the plate of cookies toward Keith. “That’s so rough, man.” he says, and Keith finds himself pulled into an awkward side-hug.

 

“Dude,” says Lance, “do you know how to hotwire a car?”

 

“Well, yeah,” says Keith, “but there’s not a lot of cars in space.”

 

“Lance,  _ I _ know how to hotwire a car.” says Hunk. “I had to hotwire a lift to get my lion, actually.”

 

Lance looks at Pidge, whose weak grin gets a little stronger.

 

“You mean you  _ don’t  _ know how to hotwire a car?” asks Pidge, elbowing him.

 

There’s an exaggerated mournful droop from Lance. “I feel so left out.” he says. “You guys are gonna have to teach me.”

 

“Actually--” says Keith, and he tries not to choke when they all turn to look at him at once again. “I was thinking maybe we should make lists of things we know how to do that might be useful on missions, and practice together...so...I...agree?”

 

“You been making plans for the whole interim leader thing?” asks Hunk.

 

“...Yeah.” says Keith.

 

The word interim is nice. He’s going to remember that.

 

“I’m gonna show you guys one right now.” says Lance. “I hear I can mix a pretty mean drink. After that we should talk about Keith’s brainstorms so far…?”

 

It turns into an impromptu lesson with the containers and decanters Hunk gathered from the galley and the Castle’s stores, taste-testing tiny bits as Lance talks about drink mixing theory and improvises a shaker.

 

“Okay, Lance, I think you’ve done it.” says Pidge over a resulting glimmering pink fizzy pouch, “I think this is it? It tastes kind of like a Cosmo.”

 

“What’s a Cosmo?” asks Keith, sipping curiously as it’s passed to him. It tastes kind of like a fruity beer, if you took away the beer taste. It doesn’t taste like alcohol, but whether or not it works the same, the way that Lance loosens up as he tosses the shaker over his shoulder with a grin and catches it behind his back is undeniable, and this is something that clearly-close-friends Lance and Hunk haven’t even done together yet.

 

“This is the weirdest thing. It tastes, like, half Cosmo and half porter, no hops.” says Hunk. He sips it again. “Cosmopolitan. They’re fruity and not usually fizzy. Cranberry juice, lime juice, vodka, and orange liqueur. In that order, I think?”

 

“I like to go half and half on the cranberry juice and vodka and just rinse the ice with the liqueur, unless it’s a good one.” says Lance. “Some people just really hate the taste of vodka, though.”

 

“Shiro would really like this.” says Keith.

 

“Shiro likes fruity drinks?” asks Hunk.

 

Keith raises his hands very solemnly, hoping that when Shiro’s back (when, when, when, not if, when) he isn’t too mad about this being shared.

 

“He went to fly disaster supplies for thirty-six hours straight during a wildfire.” says Keith. “I went to see him when I found out he was back. He was passed out on the floor at four in the afternoon with Gilmore Girls still playing, surrounded by empty cans of Mike’s Hard Strawberry Lemonade.”

 

They stare at him for a long, long, moment.

 

“He tries too hard to keep it together when he needs to be in charge, I think.” Keith adds awkwardly, taking another long pull of the apparently-kind-of-Cosmo. “If he doesn’t have someone to look after, he just kind of crashes.”

 

“When he’s back,” says Pidge fiercely, “we’re gonna make him take a break. We’ll just-- sit on him until he takes a break. He’s worked hard to take care of us, and we’re going to take care of him.”

 

“Let’s toast to that.” says Hunk, so they do.

 

“So what plans you got for us, o great interim leader?” asks Lance, slinging an arm over Keith’s shoulder, and normally he’d bristle at how closely-pressed-in he is, but he’s too tired to feel anything but relief.

 

“I wouldn’t call them plans yet. I’ve got a list?” says Keith. “I wanted to talk to all of you about it.”

 

“Let’s see this list.” says Pidge. “It’s not like any of us managed to go to bed.”

 

“Alright,” says Keith, hoping very deeply that he hasn’t made a lot of very embarrassing typos. The modified Altean tablet doesn’t have spell-check.

 

“This is intense.” says Hunk, leaning into his side to skim it. “You’re really taking this serious.”

 

“I can forward you some things for the tactics reading list.” Pidge is reading it upside-down, which Keith just kind of accepts.

 

“Representative emissaries for alliance? Recruit full complement of Castle staff for resistance? Discuss potential backup pilots? You’re not messing around at all.” says Lance. His eyebrows are raised again. Keith wishes, not for the first time, that he was more fluent in Lance, because apparently Lance communicates mostly through expression and tone of voice, and Keith can’t even communicate right with his own tone of voice.

 

“We can’t form Voltron as it is,” says Keith, shrugging and shifting uncomfortably over how much the night has involved everyone staring at him, “so I thought it might be useful to have people to switch off with for emergencies? If we can trust them and bond with them. Voltron belongs to the good of the universe.”

 

“Shay.” says Hunk immediately. “I think we should see if Shay can pilot yellow. If she wants to.”

 

“I wonder if blue could be mermaid-accessible,” muses Lance.

 

Pidge freezes over the tablet and rotates it.

 

“Keith,” she says, voice terse.

 

“Ah.” says Keith when he realizes what item Pidge is caught on.

 

“Uh, if they want to go home, we should take them home.” he says. “I was just thinking-- you and Coran and Hunk have trouble keeping up with Castle repairs, and--”

 

Pidge tackles him across the table, knocking a decanter to the floor. “We’re brothers now.” she announces.

 

“Okay?” says Keith, kind of bewildered by the fact that his Lance-and-Hunk bracketed huddle now has a Pidge on top.

 

“Dad and Matt are gonna  _ love _ the castle.” she mumbles into his shoulder. “We won’t be able to get them out of it with a crowbar.”

 

“I like the idea of taking Coran and Allura shopping on Earth for a break after. I wanna take Allura to Lush. I want to go to Lush.” says Lance.

 

“Also I’ll forward you all stuff on Altean magic theory.” Pidge adds. “...Do I have to move? How are you so comfy?”

 

“Probably the drinks.” Keith mumbles into her hair.

 

“I’m gonna call this a Princess Cosmo.” says Lance. “It’s sparkly.”

 

The last time Keith mourned Shiro, he did it alone. Now he has a not-quite-whole team pressed in around him, the weight grounding him and keeping him present in his own body, and he realizes with not a little discomfort that he can’t imagine going forward without them, for all that they’d planned on going their separate ways.

 

Pidge pulls a tablet of her own over to start forwarding things and to type up ideas and plans, draped over the three of them, and they drowse off together on the sofa, believing in a future.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith is the first one awake, and the first one to carefully extract himself from the unintended team cuddle pile.

 

Once he’s free of it, and reassured that the various volumes and rhythms of light snoring aren’t disturbed, he picks his up tablet to find that he has a very staggering amount of reading to do.

 

Then he startles to see Coran in the room. There’s soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and he presses a finger to his moustache.

 

“How long have you been there?” he asks quietly as he’s followed out.

 

“Not long.” replies Coran. “I’m glad to see you’ve all gotten some rest. Allura’s up and wants to talk about our next move, but I figure there’s time for breakfast first.”

 

“We can catch up over goo.” Keith says, and then spends a solid moment distracted by how weird it sounded coming out of his mouth. He tries to walk and read at the same time, sorting out files and editing notes here and there.

 

Coran keeps pace with him to the galley, quieter than usual. “How would you say the others are doing?” he asks.

 

“You can probably tell better than me.” says Keith. “I’m...not the best with people.”

 

“You didn’t seem to be doing too badly back there.” Coran tells him. “But that’s not why I’m asking. As team leader, and as another human, how would you assess their status?”

 

“Oh.” says Keith, pausing.

 

Right. That is, in some ways, his job too, now.

 

“I don’t know how Lance does it.” he starts. “He’s-- he’s taking all this better than I’d have thought. He was the one I worried about not wanting me in charge the most, but instead he’s been-- I don’t know. He’s been really nice.”

 

“Lance is a surprisingly brave and resilient young man.” says Coran. “And what you think means a lot to him.”

 

“Really?” asks Keith. “I’m used to him being all-- hostile. I kind of thought he hated me a little.”

 

Coran makes a hmm-ing noise, and then slaps him on the back, guffawing. “That’s because of how much he cares about what you think. It’s a kind of insecurity.” he says. “It reminds me of-- well. It reminded me of two other young men I used to know. He feels like he has to prove himself. Not just to you, but to everyone.”

 

“Oh.” says Keith again.

 

“You might want to have a heart-to-heart with him.” says Coran. “Now, what about the others?”

 

Keith shrugs. “Hunk is scared, but he’s holding up really well. He’s got a lot of good ideas once he gets going, and he’s usually pretty practical-- I think maybe he hasn’t been living up to everything he can do? He’s really smart, and it needs a chance to show more. And he’s nice in that way you just can’t fake. Really friendly.”

 

Coran nods. “That’s a pretty good take on Hunk. And Pidge?”

 

“Pidge is-- I’m worried about Pidge the most.” he confesses. “She’s probably the closest to Shiro after me, I guess? I think maybe she works too hard, but I don’t know how to judge that when she’s so smart. Like me and Shiro, she doesn’t know how to turn  _ off _ or reach out for help.”

 

“You think of Shiro as someone who doesn’t rest right or reach out when he needs it?” asks Coran.

 

“Well...yeah.” says Keith, pausing to stare at him. “I figured we just didn’t have time to talk about it, or time to rest, but we’ve all been getting into bad habits. It’s gonna affect our decisions in the field and how fast and well we react, right?”

 

“That’s right!” says Coran. “What’s a regular human schedule look like? I know how much rest and nutrition Alteans need, but you all seem a lot more fragile. Wait, no,” he adds, “save that for the Princess. We should have asked sooner.”

 

Keith isn’t very good at small talk, but Coran keeps up a gentle patter of conversation on the way to the Galley, drawing Keith out; Keith forgets over and over again that Coran had to be close to the royal family and chosen to save for a reason, but for all of his antics, he’s got a surprising amount of emotional fluency.

 

“Keith!” says Allura the moment she spots him, and then, “Where are the rest of the Paladins?”

 

“We fell asleep talking in the rec room. I...left them to get more rest.” says Keith. “It’s a little easier to talk when it’s not all of us at once, anyway. We got a few things sorted out and have some ideas?”

 

She sighs, but returns to her food. “You all seem to sleep a lot.”

 

“I was just asking him about that!” says Coran. “Keith, what are usual human needs as far as food, activity, and rest?”

 

“Well, uh, on Earth we have twenty-four hour days.” says Keith. “An hour is sixty minutes. A minute is sixty seconds, and I think seconds are just a little bit faster than ticks?”

 

“We’ve got a converter for that now!” says Coran.

 

“Please share it.” Keith replies as he settles at the table, slumping a little in relief. The time conversion is always a pain.

 

“How many Earth days do you usually go between sleep?” asks Allura.

 

“When someone sleeps best and how long they sleep varies, but humans usually need around eight hours a night? Every night.” says Keith. “Uhh, we usually need breaks every few hours. We’re kind of obviously not as strong or fast as you.”

 

Allura frowns a little. “You-- your sleep is when you do most of your healing as well, right? Like most species? And when your minds do maintenance on themselves?”

 

“As far as I know, yeah.” replies Keith.

 

She actually flushes, looking down.

 

“Over and over again,” she says, “my father told me to remember that each species has its own needs, but I expected those of you all to match what I’m used to from Alteans. Maybe because you look so much more like us than I’m used to from the rest of the galaxy. What about food and water?”

 

“A lot of Earth cultures eat three meals a day, with snacks between. Apparently the best amount is five smaller meals a day. I...wouldn’t be able to tell you exact nutritional needs, but we can get by on food that isn’t great for a long time without dying. We just get sick sometimes.” he says. “I’m guessing that’s normal for most species?”

 

Allura nods.

 

“How does the saying go? We can survive about three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, and three weeks without food? Three weeks without food sounds like a stretch, though,” Keith adds, “I get feeling pretty weak if I forget to eat for a whole day.”

 

“Most species capable of interspecies communication and cooperation require at least one meal a day and at least--” Allura taps at her tablet. “--Three of your Earth hours of sleep.”

 

“Actually, we were thinking that for a kind of rest and resupply run,” says Keith, “we don’t want to draw the Galra back to Earth, but they haven’t colonized it yet. Apparently it just doesn’t have resources of use or interest to them. We could probably get away with a basic shopping run and show you some of what it’s like. Pidge says our solar system just plain doesn’t naturally have most of the elements and resources that are needed for the kind of space travel we do, though. Don’t expect a lot from the tech.”

 

“Shiro is among your early space explorers, yes?” asks Allura. “How far were you getting with what you had? How many species have you had contact with?”

 

Leadership apparently requires a  _ lot _ of talking.

 

“There’s a small moon-- basically an asteroid-- called Kerberos on the edge of our solar system. When the Galra got him, he was on a mission to take samples that might hold evidence that life  _ had _ evolved off our planet. Most people on our planet think that there isn’t any.” Keith tells her. “It took him months to get there. But all of us were in training for space exploration. It’s kind of military and I was fighter class, which is...kind of sketchy now that I think about it. And Pidge was able to build gear that could pick up Galra radio chatter somehow. The blue lion had to get to Earth somehow, and my mom was-- was Galra, apparently. So there might be more to that.”

 

“How long are Earth months?” Allura frowns deeper. “And how long are your lifespans?”

 

“Our months are thirty days on average. Our years are twelve months, and we live about eighty years, if we’re lucky? My dad didn’t make it to sixty. His heart gave out. But some people live to over a hundred years old. They’re usually  _ really _ elderly and aged by then.”

 

“ _ I’m _ over a hundred years old!” exclaims Coran. “I’m not sure how many in your Earth years, but I must say, on Earth I must look quite young for my age!”

 

“You look...about as aged as my dad did around fifty?” offers Keith.

 

Coran chortles. “I could get used to being thought of as fifty.”

 

Allura looks more than a little down. “Your lives are so short, fast, and fragile?” she asks. “What are your growth cycles like?”

 

“Well, I mean, not everybody lives experimental space piloting kinds of lives.” says Keith, shifting awkwardly. “We’re really, really fragile when we’re born, and apparently during some parts of our history people had lots of kids because most of them would die. Now most people live to be adults though. We’re usually born one at a time, live births, nine months of gestation. Puberty tends to start anywhere from age eleven to age fourteen, but it’s usually over by our early twenties. A lot of cultures have their age of majority somewhere between seventeen and twenty.”

 

“Wait, how old are you?” asks Allura, a look of horror starting to dawn on her face.

 

Keith flinches back a bit. “Nineteen earth years..?” he offers.

 

“Are any of you not of age on your world?” she demands.

 

“I don’t think so. I haven’t asked Pidge, but apparently she was getting more than one thesis ready for peer review, which is something that takes a  _ lot  _ of effort and focus.” he answers. “Uh, not that Earth childhoods are all idyllic. We’re still working on a lot of issues.”

 

“What of magic and faiths?” she asks.

 

The impromptu interrogation on humans from the outside is exhausting Keith, and he’s barely just woken up.

 

“Uh, no comment on religion.” he says. “There’s been...some wars about that. A lot of wars about that. Mostly people mind their business about their own faiths, though, I think? Some nice music and art has come from it? And I didn’t know whether to believe in magic or not until we saw the things we’ve seen out here. I’d seen and felt some things, but believing in magic is treated like something childish or foolish by a lot of people.”

 

“Most Galra cannot do magic.” says Allura. “Historically, few Alteans can, and fewer yet gain a very thorough understanding of its workings. Our royalty is-- was-- a relic of times where that was aligned with governmental aristocracy, although until the war against the Galra, the title was largely one of cultural duty, and Altea had nearly reached its second millennia of peace among ourselves.”

 

She considers him carefully.

 

“I am not adept or fluent in magic.” she says. “I hadn’t truly begun my education in it. It’s my hope that at least one of you Paladins will have the inclination and capacity, so that I can have someone to learn with.”

 

“Maybe we can start on that today, between drills.” says Keith. “So, I don’t know if you know this, but on Earth Pidge is like-- a really rare level and kind of smart. Something like one in a million. Her father and her brother are the same. They might be really messed up from living under the Galra. Shiro was barely keeping it together himself. But Pidge thinks they’d want to stay on the Castle. Her brother might even be a candidate as a backup pilot for the green lion, if lions can have more than one pilot.”

 

Allura pauses and then very delicately lowers her face into her hands.

 

“Keith,” she says, “I think I’ve been an awful leader and commander. When Shiro told me the Galra had deemed your species primitive and sent the other two to a labor camp, I’d-- I made assumptions that-- I should have prioritized liberation of the enslaved. And I’ve been taking you all for granted.”

 

“Princess,” starts Coran, at the same time as Keith.

 

Coran gestures for Keith to speak, which throws him off.

 

“Princess Allura, you probably have the most education and experience of any of us in-- in war.” says Keith. “Your decisions have mostly kept us alive, and you try to put us above yourself even when you don’t know how, even though none of us can do what you do. I,” His voice cracks. “I believe Shiro is still alive and that we can get him back, because he hasn’t-- it’s stupid. It’s a stupid feeling. But whether or not we do, I’d follow you to the ends of the universe and back.”

 

She sniffs a bit and composes herself.

 

“Thank you.” she says. “The lions-- they choose their pilots based on whose quintessence mirrors theirs. Who has a matched soul and spirit. When I first met all of you, I couldn’t understand why, in so long, it was you they’d called out to. But you’re all something special. You bring it out in your lions, in the others around you, and in each other.”

 

“Back on Earth, I was a  _ failure _ .” Keith tells her. “I still don’t know how much I can do, and I don’t know why Shiro thought I should be the one to take his place. I don’t have a handle on my temper, I don’t know how to talk to people-- all I can do is fly and fight. Everything I’ve told you is probably something Pidge or Hunk or even Lance could have told you better.”

 

“Can we look at your notes?” asks Coran.

 

“...Sure.” says Keith reluctantly, passing the tablet over. “Can you, uh, read our--”

 

“Sort of,” says Coran, at the same time Allura says “Yes.”

 

“The Castle will help me with it.” she adds. “Alteans have a gift for languages, and an extent of sympathetic psychic resonance that helps us pick them up more quickly. We developed space travel early in our evolution.”

 

“Sounds handy.” replies Keith.

 

“I skimmed what I could as we walked.” says Coran, grinning and elbowing him a little. “I just asked for it to prove a point. A lot of these are good ideas.”

 

“Thanks.” says Keith. “They’re, uh, not just mine.”

 

“Honestly, it’s a little surprising that your species was capable of producing five potential pilots in the same generation.” Allura’s eyes track quickly as she scrolls through. “Shay is a good candidate for piloting the yellow lion in personality, yes, and especially with Balmeran resonance with quintessence and magic and elemental associations.”

 

“I thought that maybe...if it’s alright with you.” says Keith. “I think that my backup pilot should come from the Blades of Marmora, if they’ve got someone red would like.”

 

She pauses, looks up, and meets his eyes.

 

“You’re right.” she says. “It’s...unorthodox, to think of trying to build a secondary team. It’s not traditional. But until the universe is at peace from oppression, Voltron is needed. And you all need to take care of yourselves. We’re not fighting a losing battle. We took on Zarkon and his druids, and his fleet. We’ve already built alliances.”

 

“A Balmeran elder might be able to help with filling in what we lack on the magic bit.” Coran adds. “They seem to take to it quite well by nature. Between them and the Olkari, if they’re willing to lend us a hand, we’ll have Shiro back in no time.”

 

“I think that whether or not we’ve got Voltron,” says Allura, “we’ve got the information we need to find Pidge’s family, and enough firepower to free them if needed. I’ve exchanged word with the Blades of Marmora to-- send the bad news and my condolences. They’ve told me in return that many labor camps are organizing into uprisings all over.”

 

“That’s awesome.” Keith manages a smile. “I think-- no. We can do this.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” says Coran. “You two should probably pull up one of the magic tutoring programs until the other wakes up. I’ve still got a lot of repairs to do to get us back from drifting in space.”

 

“We’ll have supplies,” Allura tells them, “and help. The Blades are sending an envoy to assist us. Regardless of whether the Castle’s ready to make the jump, once we can hold the wormholes and run comms, we’ll begin to--” She takes a deep breath.

 

“We’ll begin to populate the Castle,” she says, “and work to facilitate freedom, justice, and governing by consent across the universe. It’s time for liberation.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, you wanted to talk to me?” says Lance, peeking his head in.

 

Keith is surrounded by tablets and wired to five different devices, trying not to slip out of the uncomfortable bendy crossed-legs position with the tops of his feet on top of his thighs.

 

He sighs. “Come in.” he says. “I could use a break anyway. I suck at meditating.”

 

“I think Pidge is trying to summon a demon with crayons.” Lance informs him, grinning and settling down on the clearest patch of floor.

 

“That could be useful.” says Keith.

 

Lance laughs.

 

“So what did you want to talk about?” he asks.

 

Keith takes a deep breath.

 

“First, I want to thank you.” he says. “You’re a lot better with people than I am, and you’ve kind of helped me keep it together a lot. Honestly, before last night, I thought you hated me. I was ready to give up on the idea of being in charge if you were going to fight me on it.”

 

“Oh man.” says Lance. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to hear that. I thought  _ you _ hated  _ me _ for a while, until I figured out you’re just like that.”

 

“...Just like what?” asks Keith. “I’m supposed to do  _ diplomacy _ . That  _ scares _ me.”

 

Lance stares at him for a long, long moment. “Hunk was right. You’re a lot more open than you used to be. We just got off on the wrong foot, though. I--” He starts to turn a little red, which Keith doesn’t know how to interpret. “I wanted to impress you, and it felt like you weren’t even seeing me. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m seeing you now.” says Keith, quiet. “ _ I’m _ sorry. I was jealous of how confident you seemed. I’m still jealous over how easy you make it look to talk to people, and how much you bounce back when a conversation doesn’t go well.”

 

“Oh.” says Lance. “Okay, so, confession time. I’m guessing you had a lot more to worry about while you were at the Garrison, and, I, uh, had a pretty big crush on you.”

 

It’s Keith’s turn for his eyebrows to go up. “I’d assumed you were straight. Sorry.”

 

Lance scratches the back of his head. “So did I. I mean, I’d made out with Hunk once, but he’s Hunk.” He pauses. “That’s not just me, right?”

 

“I wouldn’t know.” replies Keith. “...I mean, I’ve only ever been really into guys before, not that Hunk isn’t--” Keith gives up and buries his face in his hands. “He’s nice and he’s warm  _ and _ he cooks.”

 

“Oh my god, I bet you had the weirdest crush on Shiro.” says Lance.

 

“I got a  _ speech _ .” says Keith into his hands, muffled. “It was so awkward. I felt like I was going to die.”

 

“I didn’t figure out I was maybe kinda bi until the Garrison and I’m still not adjusted to it,” says Lance, “but let’s be honest, if I’d met him at fifteen, I would have asked him if I could suck his dick  _ sir _ . Imagine the speech  _ I _ would have gotten.”

 

Keith can feel his cheeks flaming. He doesn’t look up. “That’s, uh, about how it-- uh.”

 

“ _ Oh my god _ .” says Lance. “I’m so happy to know you right now. So I guess I’m not your type?”

 

“No,” replies Keith, “no, I’ve just been dying over here, I’m fine, thanks. I’ve only dated once and I’m on a team with three guys who were picked across time and space to save the universe when my own lion didn’t even want me until I blew myself out an airlock.”

 

“Was the cuddle pile a bad thing?” asks Lance. “Because I’m all about cuddle piles, but I can understand if you feel weird about it.”

 

“It was really nice.” says Keith. “I’ll live.”

 

“Whew.” says Lance, he actually says ‘whew’ out loud, like it would be some kind of loss for Keith to be uninterested in cuddling. Keith kind of wants to ask more down that path, but it’s probably a bad time.

 

“Anyway...yeah. I just wanted to check in and make sure you know that I value you as a member of the team and that we’re on the same page.” says Keith. He can’t look Lance in the eye. “I should probably get back to Magic 101.”

 

Lance stands, brushing his pants off absentmindedly. “Let me know how it goes, okay? I’ll go make sure Hunk takes a break to start teaching me hotwiring.” he says. “And-- anytime. Maybe we can see if we can figure out that Altean pool later!”

 

“Okay?” replies Keith, watching him leave. 

 

“Swimming’s good for you.” Lance informs him with a grin and a wink, sweeping off.

 

* * *

 

 

When he can’t get to sleep by four in the morning, schedule still a mess after everything, Lance turns up at his door again, this time with Hunk and with towels.

 

“I don’t even have trunks ready, Lance.” Hunk is trying to explain.

 

“Neither do I. Uh, hi.” says Keith.

 

“I haven’t gone skinny-dipping in the middle of the night in  _ years _ .” muses Lance, and once Keith’s halfway down the hall, still arguing with him, he decides a little sullenly who’s going to be  _ his _ backup for the black lion, because he follows without even thinking about it.

 

Hunk calls them both idiots when he pulls out the unfolding stairs to the pool out from the wall. “Seriously, pools usually have some kind of ladder,” he says, shucking his shirt off. He pauses over his pants.

 

“Wait, before anyone’s naked, I should--”

 

Lance is already halfway up the stairs, whooping; he cannonballs into the pool headfirst as the swap in gravity overtakes him, splashing high enough that it showers on both of them.

 

“--talk about the weird crush thing. Uh. Too late?” he says.

 

“Weird crush thing?” asks Keith, freezing. He is, in fact, already naked.

 

“Well, I mean, there’s three of us, not that that doesn’t happen, but I-- can’t imagine dating outside the team right now, and, well,” Hunk gestures up at the pool. “We kind of left weird a lot of light-years behind.”

 

Face red, he shoves his pajama pants off and bolts up the stairs.

 

The cool water and feeling not entirely unlike weightlessness, and the resistance of doing laps against Lance’s time-- which, for once, Lance wins handily by a wide margin-- really does feel good for him.

 

It feels less good for him when Allura finds them dozing sandwiched together naked in a hot tub holding hands and laughs at the ensuing chaos, but he goes to bed the next night with goodnight kisses and a warm, motivated exhaustion, Hunk snoring at his back, and realizes that he feels like he’s home.

 

END

 

* * *

 

 

OUTTAKE:

 

Keith finds himself woken in the night by Hunk shaking his shoulder.

 

"Hzzh?!"

 

"Sorry, sorry," says Hunk. He's anxiously pressing the tips of his fingers together. "Only I can't, uh, sleep wondering,"

 

"What's up?" asks Keith.

 

"You don't have weird alien junk, do you?" blurts Hunk. "It's not a problem if you do! I’m just curious,"

 

"Oh my god." says Keith. "I'm going back to sleep."

 

"But now  _ I _ can't sleep." says Lance from his other side.

 

" _ You've both seen me naked. _ " Keith groans. “ _ Yesterday. _ ”

 

“I was trying not to look! To be polite!” replies Hunk.

 

“ _ I don’t have weird alien junk! _ ”


End file.
